


but i want you

by fishybowl



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Kyle Broflovski, M/M, Nipple Licking, Scent Kink, Top Stan Marsh, getting caught, i am a garbage person why did i write this, sorta? idk, they're in love...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23783824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishybowl/pseuds/fishybowl
Summary: Kyle likes Stan's jacket a little too much, and Stan likes seeing Kyle in his jacket a little too much.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 13
Kudos: 365





	but i want you

**Author's Note:**

> i swear im going to write more multichaptered fics soon :')  
> i have a whole ass series of aus lined up that i want to write for but today i just wanted to write some cute smut - so enjoy! characters are aged up in this.

Kyle starts "forgetting" his jacket around 11th grade, when his feelings for Stan have started to bubble over the surface, threatening to spill out in a pathetic puddle around Kyle's feet. He begins shrugging off his jacket at home, meeting Stan at whatever location the two of them have decided on for that day, and complaining about how the snow bites at his fingers without a jacket. That part is true, at least. Even on days when he genuinely forgets his jacket, he's never had to worry about the cold, though, because Stan would always give him his own. Stan's jacket is big, like Stan, and it dwarfs Kyle every time he puts it on and slides his arms through the sleeves. "Thanks, dude." Kyle would say, as the warmth seeped back into his bones, and Stan would say something like 'no problem' or 'of course' because that was just a Stan thing to do. Stan would always sacrifice his own comfort for Kyle's, no matter what they were doing that day. That just made it hurt even more.

Right now, Kyle has Stan's jacket wrapped around him as he sits on his bed, back against the wall. He inhales the faint smell of Stan's cologne hesitantly, afraid that he might take too much of it away and it'll end up just like any old jacket. It wouldn't matter, anyway; Stan should be coming back over to retrieve it soon. Sometimes, Kyle almost feels bad about this; Stan has no idea that Kyle likes to hug his jacket to his face at night, pretending that it's the man himself. If all goes as planned, Stan will never know.

Kyle slowly pulls the jacket off and places it on his bed, scooting forward slightly so that he can pull his shirt off as well. Stan said he'd be coming here at six, so Kyle still has time to jerk off with the smell of the jacket still whirling around him before Stan has to take it away again. He stands up just enough to wiggle his jeans off and shove his boxers down, kicking them off of his knees. He digs through the drawer set next to his bed for the lube he keeps stuffed in between his Terrance and Phillip pack boxers, setting it on the bed next to him.

He checks his phone; 5:30 pm. Yeah, if he makes this quick, he'll have more than enough time to wait at the door for Stan, shove the jacket in his face, and turn away before Stan starts to get suspicious. He uncaps the lube next to him, squirting a generous dose onto his palm. After a bit of hesitation, he rubs some onto his fingers too, hoisting himself up onto his knees so he can stretch himself from behind. Kyle doubts that a quick jerk-off will cut it today; Stan was even weirder than usual, if that was possible.

When they were sitting on the bench at Stark's Pond, directed by Sheila to drop Ike off there and make sure that no funny business was going on, Stan had rested his hand on Kyle's thigh, squeezing it gently. Kyle had tensed up as Stan had scooted closer, but it didn't go any further; it couldn't, anyway. They were in public, and it was likely a fluke on Stan's part. Kyle spent the rest of the day even moodier than usual, both pissed at Stan for his sudden touches and also filled with the desire to have them go further, unzip his pants and press him open. 

His right hand gropes for Stan's jacket in front of him, pulling it closer and taking a deep sniff. If he thinks hard enough like this, he can imagine that Stan is sitting on the other side of his bed, watching him silently open himself up for Stan's cock. It's a foolish fantasy, of course; if Stan did happen to be here, Kyle would want him to be desperate to open up Kyle himself with whatever means possible. He would want Stan to whisper gently into his ear as his fingers thrust in and out-

Kyle pushes a single finger in and hisses. It's still uncomfortable for the first minute, no matter how often he does it, but he knows that it will be worth it in the end. The smell of Stan is making him feel dizzy, intoxicated; who needs alcohol when Kyle can have this whenever he wants? Who needs Stan to know about his feelings when he can come home after school every day and go through his same queue of sickening fantasies; hickeys, rimming, getting caught, repeat. He's had these scenarios on lockdown for months now, so it's not unfamiliar when he manages to drift into the first one.

He thinks of Stan biting hickeys onto his neck, sucking at the wounds he left with lust buried in his eyes. He might apologize afterwards, afraid that he had hurt Kyle, but Kyle would just laugh and pull him closer again, desperate to have _something_ on him that proves that he's Stan's and Stan is his. That they belong together and nothing can tear them apart; not Wendy, not Bebe, not Cartman. Kyle would leave scratches down Stan's back in return, a parting gift for when he would inevitably leave to return to his old girlfriend. Even if Stan managed to tear Kyle away from him, the scars would take time to heal, a sure sign of the frenzy he had put Kyle in every time they even looked at each other.

The finger inside of him wiggles, trying to stretch his rim open enough for another one. Something filling him up, something pushed inside of him is something that he's always needed, but never could admit to anyone else. These fantasies belong exclusively to him. His body tries to suck in the finger further, up to the second knuckle, and Kyle forces in another finger while he's managed to distract himself with thoughts of Stan finding out about his secret.

Sure, Cartman jokes about it from time to time; he'll joke that Kyle likes to suck dick, or that he wants to get tackled by the football team, but nobody ever believes him. According to Cartman, every guy in school wants to get tackled by the football team. Kyle will laugh it off and avoid eye contact; he only wants to get pushed to the ground by one member of the team, and that's Stan; South Park's star quarterback. As if Stan wasn't attractive enough before, he suddenly had to decide that it was time to get into shape if he wanted to get any sort of sports scholarship. When they're alone, Stan sometimes talks about how he doesn't really care for sports that much at all; he wants to pursue music, but this is a good way to clip some of his debt off before it even officially exists.

Stan might be horrified if he found out about Kyle's desperation for his dick. He thinks about admitting it in front of everyone, occasionally, just so his mother will stop trying to set him up with girls and so he can shut Cartman's fat mouth up once and for all without being 'too defensive' and 'what, are you gay or something', because he is. He's super gay. And more than anything, he wants to sit down on his best friend's dick. He scissors his fingers distractedly, wincing slightly at the pressure and the stretch of his walls as they struggle to accommodate his fingers. He pulls them out for just a moment to slather more lube on them before forcefully pressing them back in, resisting the keen that nearly bursts out of his throat. 

This is the good stuff. His fingers will never equal Stan's dick, and they'll never be enough to fully satisfy him, but they're a tolerable substitution for now. It gets him used to the feeling; when he likes to imagine himself getting fucked, he likes to think that he could take it easily. He's been through enough pain in his life that this would be nothing; Stan could bend him over and take him in any way he'd like and Kyle wouldn't so much as twitch. 

Arousal is pooling in his stomach once more as his fingers twist inside of him, searching for his prostate; he's never managed to find it. He knows that it's there, of course, and he's looked at excessive amounts of diagrams to try and figure it out, but his fingers just aren't long enough. Stan's might be, though; they're thick and longer than Kyle's and they could force Kyle into submission with enough wiggling about. He puts Stan's jacket next to him and grips his dick with his other hand; it's only half hard from the lack of stimulation, but it's quickly hardening as it realizes what Kyle is thinking about. He rubs some more lube on his hand and begins to slowly jerk himself off. He doesn't even need to move his fingers at this point; just the knowledge that he has something inside of him, filling him up, is such an intense turn-on that he can hardly bear it.

Kyle's head tips forward, out of his control, and he doesn't try to raise it; his whole body is hot and he needs to get this over with before-

"Kyle?"

At first, Kyle can't tell whether that's imaginary-Stan or real life Stan talking to him. He's tried to imagine what Stan would sound like while pounding into him, what he would whisper into Kyle's ear, but he's never imagined him sounding concerned like this one is. Kyle's heart plummets into his stomach, thrumming loudly through his ribs. When he opens his eyes, he sees Stan in his doorway, his eyes raking up and down Kyle's nude body. 

"Oh. Oh fuck," Kyle chokes out, quickly removing his fingers from his hole and wiping them on the sheets, trying to rid them of the lube. He throws himself under his comforter, scrambling to cover up every inch of his body; including his face. It's burning red and worst of all, he's still hard and he's still desperate for attention. Seeing Stan has only made his situation worse; now Stan knows what he looks like completely uncovered, his body completely bare. 

"Uhh," Stan mutters, his hand raising to scratch at the back of his neck. He looks hot even then, his face reddening as well in the completely embarrassing situation that they're in. And it's all Kyle's fault. "My bad, I'm sorry, I should have knocked." When Kyle doesn't respond, too busy trying to control his breathing, Stan walks over to the bed, picking up his jacket. "Dude, it's alright. I've been caught jerking it more times than I can remember."

Kyle almost feels like shouting at him for that; it's not the same when you're caught by the guy that you w"ere jerking off to. And it's obvious, too; Stan is staring at his jacket as if he's checking it for stains. "Could you look at me?"

Very tentatively, Kyle pokes his head out from the comforter. His shoulders come out with him, pale and speckled, and Stan's breath catches when he sees them. "Put it on," Stan says, shakily.

"What?"

"Put on the jacket, Kyle."

Kyle takes the jacket from him. His mind is whirring; what the fuck is going on? Stan is standing in front of him, after having watched him fuck himself with his own fingers, and is now offering Kyle his jacket to wear? Or, rather, ordering him to. Kyle pulls the comforter down to his hips and slides the jacket on. If the jacket smelled good, it's nothing compared to Stan in front of him; it's completely overpowering. Kyle's brain is demanding that he lick Stan's abs, but he doubts that that action would be appreciated right now. Stan stares at Kyle, clad in nothing but his jacket, and his voice cracks the next time that he speaks.

"What were you thinking about?"

Kyle certainly wasn't expecting this question, but he also wasn't expecting Stan to give him his jacket for no reason. Clearly it's not to cover anything up; Kyle's cock is still clearly visible to anyone who looks at him, and the jacket only accentuates the curve of his hips as he settles. His ass feels terribly empty, robbed of what could have been a great orgasm if he hadn't been walked in on. When Kyle stares at Stan, looking puzzled, Stan amends his question.

"I mean, you don't have to answer, but I saw that you were, uh, fucking yourself. Like, your fingers were in your ass. So I assume it wasn't a girl."

"Great observation," Kyle says dryly. He leans backwards and the jacket tips further onto his bed. His cock is still red, desperate for attention, and Stan's eyes keep falling back it and the way his thighs are clamped together, trying to stop any of the watery lube from leaking out of his ass. "Well, I was touching your jacket, so that should give you a clue."

Stan shakes his head. He sits on the bed next to Kyle, and one of his hands does the same thing it did earlier; it sneaks over to his upper thigh, rubbing small circles. Kyle looks at him in despair; he's so desperately horny and absolutely none of this is helping. "Kyle, stop being a dick. I need you to say that it was me. Please. Just say it, or I might be making a huge mistake right now."

Kyle wants to say something about Stan's ego, still bitter about his own foolishness, but Stan is looking at him with those pleading, hungry eyes and suddenly Kyle can't do anything but what Stan wants him to do. He spreads his legs, his thighs flattening out as he exposes himself further. It's not like things can get any worse; Stan has already seen everything, and if he's still looking, it can't be all that bad. It's sort of hot, actually, the way that Stan can't keep his eyes off of Kyle. His pupils flit to his nipples, to his cock, to his thighs and the brief portion of his ass that's visible. "I was jerking off to you, Stan," Kyle murmurs breathily. "I was thinking about you when I was fucking myself with my fingers."

Kyle doesn't have the chance to say anything else before Stan is on top of him, shoving him down onto the bed, his mouth finding Kyle's. Kyle has no idea what's going on; everything is happening so fast but Stan's tongue is forcing his lips open, pressing inside of his mouth as if he's determined to pin every bit of Kyle down to the bed. Stan's fingers grip his waist as his larger body forces Kyle down into the mattress; he wouldn't get up even if he could. His legs are spread to accommodate Stan's knees, his lips are parted for Stan's tongue, and every time Stan touches part of him it feels electric. 

When they finally pull away, a brief trail of saliva connecting their lips, Stan's pupils are blown. He looks like he's trying to decide what to do with Kyle next; his fingers keep massaging at Kyle's thighs while he leans forward to press quick kisses to his lips and chin. "Do you have a fetish for my thighs or something?" Kyle asks, half-joking.

"Yeah," Stan groans. "I'm gonna spend so long with them, trust me," he rasps. Before his teeth lock onto Kyle's neck, he pulls away, still considerate of Kyle as always. "Is it alright if I leave some marks?" 

Kyle nods rapidly. "Yeah. Just don't put them where I can't hide them."

As soon as he gets his consent, Stan nips at the column of Kyle's throat, tonguing the patch of skin between his teeth with force. Kyle writhes at the feeling of Stan's hot tongue on him and the slight twinges of pain that come with his incessant biting, but he tolerates it just so he can stare in the mirror tomorrow morning and see the proof that this wasn't just a dream. When Stan is satisfied with the purpling mark he's left, he laves his tongue over it and kisses it tenderly, like he hadn't just been rutting against Kyle's leg as he did his goddamn best to leave a bruise.

Kyle tangles his fingers in Stan's short hair, trying to get a grip just in case as Stan moves down to one of his nipples. He pulls Stan off before he can get to work. "I'm naked and you have all your clothes on. That's not fair," he complains.

"Well, you're not completely naked." Stan flicks the jacket and grins. 

"That doesn't count. You're just making me wear this because of your weird kink."

"Excuse me? I thought that this was your weird kink? You were the one practically jerking off into my jacket-"

"I was not!" Kyle squawks indignantly. Stan laughs and starts to pull off his shirt anyway, still grinning. Kyle's eyes train on the strip of skin between his belt and his t-shirt as he slowly pulls it off, throwing it to the ground. Normally Kyle would at least complain about trying to keep his room clean, but there's nothing on his mind now other than Stan's abs and how he really wants to be pressed against him once more. "Make sure that the door is locked."

"Gotcha." It's painful to see Stan walk away, his subconscious convinced that Stan is going to leave through that door and tell everyone what he's seen, but Stan just locks the door and returns, just as eager to continue what they were doing as Kyle is. Before Kyle can stop him, Stan is latched onto one of his nipples, his hand flying up to gently pull and fondle the other one. 

"Jesus fuck." Kyle gasps as Stan grazes his teeth against his nipple. "That's sensitive, be careful with that-" 

Stan closes his lips around the nipple and Kyle would kick at the air involuntarily, desperate to release some of this energy, if Stan didn't still have every bit of his body trapped under his weight. "Stan, I'm gonna come if you don't stop doing that." he warns, but the last half of his sentence is choked off by Stan swirling his tongue. 

The mouth working around his nipple pops off when Stan hears that, surprised. "Really? That quick?" He glances down, and Kyle's still hard from earlier - there's precum bubbling at the tip of his cock and he's doing his best to rub against Stan's leg, trying to work around this inconvenient position they're in. "Jesus, that's hot." He gives one last loving lick to each of Kyle's nipples, causing Kyle's hips to jerk up, before pulling away. "I'm not done with them yet," Stan warns. "You're gonna be here for a while."

Kyle can't imagine a better scenario. "I want to suck you off," he blurts out, because it's true. He's been thinking about how Stan might feel in his mouth; the taste, the heat, the weight on his tongue. Stan looks surprised by this, for some reason, like he wasn't really expecting that much in return for his efforts. He wonders if it might have something to do with Wendy, but that thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "Just for a little bit. I still want you to fuck me."

"Oh, shit. Right. I get to fuck you." Stan seems surprised when he remembers this, as if Kyle's fingers weren't what brought up this whole discussion. If Kyle hadn't had the jacket near him, and if he hadn't been clearly thinking about a guy, they might have laughed it off. Kyle is very glad they didn't. "Oh my god, I haven't even touched you there - your poor little ass. Don't worry, I'll take care of it soon." Kyle is glad he brought that up, because he still feels open and twitchy, his hole neglected when he was forced to come to a sudden stop. 

"Alright, roll off me for a moment," Kyle says, sitting up when Stan has begrudgingly released Kyle from his hold. "I've practiced on, uh, bananas, but this is my first time. So. Don't expect too much," he confesses. Stan doesn't seem bothered by this; he just gives Kyle a chaste kiss and lifts his hips to pull his pants off. There's a significant bulge in Stan's boxers by the time Kyle finally gets to see them, and it's alluring; he wants to put a hand on him now but he's already committed to taking him in his mouth first. Hell, he doesn't even know how big Stan is, but he definitely isn't lacking if the bulge is anything to go by.

"How big are you?" Kyle asks. "Inchwise. Just before I see this."

Stan smiles sheepishly. "I haven't measured in a while. I don't really know."

"Oh, bullshit! You probably have a little height chart for your dick and you do daily measurements. I'm still going to fucking sit on it no matter how big it is, but..."

"Kenny's the one with the chart! But, seven inches, maybe? Seven and a half?"

"Jesus, man." Kyle finally pulls Stan's boxers down, and it's immediately clear that he wasn't lying; Stan is packing. Kyle doesn't consider himself too bad; maybe around average, but Stan might be a bit of a struggle to fit in either place he's planning on taking him. Kyle's takes Stan's cock in his hand, and he doesn't have to worry about hardness; Stan is fully erect, which Kyle finds to be somewhat of a confidence boost. He hasn't had his dick touched so far either, but if he was happy enough sucking on Kyle's nipples, he's more than fine with that.

Kyle gives it a few dry strokes with his hand, unwilling to use lube yet. He has a suspicion that lube won't taste particularly good, especially when combined with the taste of dick. Which Kyle doesn't even know yet! Stan sits down and Kyle crawls between his legs, staring at the intimidating cock before him. He doesn't really want to swallow, but that shouldn't be much of a problem, as he doesn't want Stan to come while he does this - if Stan is going to come anywhere, Kyle wants it inside of him. 

When it becomes a little awkward that Kyle hasn't done anything yet, he leans forward and gives a long lick down the shaft. It doesn't taste bad at all, surprisingly - just like it would be if Kyle licked Stan's arm. Maybe slightly saltier. He settles into a more comfortable position and carefully takes the head into his mouth, sucking gently. Stan groans from above him, his fingers gripping Kyle's scalp and pulling on his curls. He... doesn't mind that, actually. Kyle slowly begins to work the cock into his mouth, one inch at a time, raising back up and sliding the heat of his mouth down against Stan, who gasps and pulls whenever Kyle does something he particularly likes.

He can't fit nearly all of it in his mouth, but he can get a little over half in from his limited experience practicing on bananas. When Ike had caught him doing that, he had been ridiculed for days; half of him wants to go tell Ike that 'jokes on you, buddy, it did come in handy' and the other half recognizes how completely inappropriate that would be. Still, it's a funny thought, and he giggles, his mouth still on Stan's dick. Stan looks warmly down on him as Kyle uses his hand to manage the bottom half that he can't reach with his mouth. Maybe one day he'll learn to deepthroat him properly, but that day won't be for a while. Assuming that they do this again and that Stan jumping him wasn't just something he had to get out of his system.

Kyle continues bobbing his head on Stan's cock until Stan finally pulls him off, giving his hair a sharp pull. It sends tingles down his spine as he rises up, a bit of drool still leaking from his mouth. Stan wipes it away. "I don't want to come yet," he explains. Kyle nods and Stan pushes him gently back down onto the bed, back first. 

"Spread your legs." Stan says, and Kyle kicks his open, tightening them around Stan's waist. He can tell that Stan is eyeing his cock, which has gotten no attention since this started, but he hasn't touched it yet; Kyle doesn't want to question him, but there's heat filling his body at a rapid place and all he wants is a hand on his dick, jerking him off to completion. Stan doesn't look away from Kyle's thighs as he gropes on the bed for the lube. It's still open, and some has spilled out onto the sheets, but there's enough for their purposes.

Kyle almost expects Stan to go straight for his hole, fingers lubed up, but he doesn't - instead, he presses his lips to one of Kyle's upper thighs, flattening his tongue and giving him a long, gentle lick up to his waist. He barely misses Kyle's cock and Kyle lets out a soft sob. "Stan, dude, please." 

Stan shakes his head and nibbles on the soft skin there, sucking a hickey into his tender flesh before planting a kiss over it and moving on to the next spot. He doesn't know how long Stan spends worshipping his thighs, dragging his fingers along the skin and leaving small bruises in his wake. he doesn't know how long any of this has been going on; he's lost track of time. Hell, he's lost his ability to properly measure time as Stan moans against Kyle's leg, digging his nails in and bending his head to bite him once more. Kyle falls into this, his head swimming, and he only notices that Stan has snuck a finger behind him when he feels the pressure against his entrance.

Kyle is so relaxed and desperate to have something inside of him that he opens easily as Stan begins to fuck his finger in and out of Kyle, continuing his merciless attacks on Kyle's thighs. "You needed this, didn't you?" Stan asks, his second finger rubbing firmly against Kyle's stretched hole.

Kyle moans, not completely processing what Stan was saying. "Yeah, you needed something in your hole. You needed to be stuffed with something. How could I let my super best friend go on without it?" Stan removes his fingers, adds more lube, and begins his efforts to fit a third finger in. If Kyle is planning to fit Stan's cock inside of him, he definitely needs a third, but Stan's fingers are much thicker than his are. They're fingers meant for plucking guitar strings, not being used to finger someone open. Still, goddammit, Kyle will prevail. He bears down on Stan's fingers and his hips relax, accepting the third finger in without too much thought.

Stan spreads his fingers, and Kyle had almost forgotten about his quest to find his prostate until - oh - Stan hits something and Kyle genuinely _wails_. 

"Do that again," he pleads. "Dude, don't leave me hanging, do more of that."

Stan brushes his fingers lazily over Kyle's prostate again, sending jolts through his body and forcing out little gasps and whimpers. "You can't come until I'm inside of you, though. You're going to have to wait." Once he's spread his fingers as far as they'll go and Kyle is grinding his ass against Stan's cock, desperate for friction, he pulls his fingers out and demolishes a pillow sheet with the amount of lube that he had used. Well, too much is better than too little, especially in this case.

"Condoms?" Stan asks. "I mean, do you have any?"

Kyle shakes his head. "Dude, I thought that you'd see me like this and never talk to me again. I never thought I'd actually get to have you."

Stan's eyes soften and he caresses Kyle's cheek, gently kissing him. "I could never hate you. I don't know what we are now, but you're still my best friend. You're my favorite person." He clearly isn't willing to stop what they're doing and take a drive for condoms, so he tilts his head at Kyle. "I'm clean. I always used protection with Wendy."

"And you're my first," Kyle reminds him. 

Stan moans at the thought. "Did you just not find anyone who wanted to fuck you? You're hot, dude, I can't imagine that."

Kyle shakes his head. "No, I just didn't find anyone that _I_ wanted to fuck. You're the only one. You've always been the only one. I didn't want to fuck anyone if it wasn't you."

"Well, now you have me all to yourself," Stan murmurs, pressing his forehead against Kyle's. "You know that I love you. Have since we were kids; we just didn't know it yet." he laughs, like he's thinking of all their time together when they both had no idea. Kyle thinks of Stan's drunken confession at the age of ten. He thinks of his physical attachment since they were thirteen, and he thinks of those awkward sleepovers where they'd both wake up with hard-ons until sophomore year. 

"Yeah." Kyle says. "I guess we just didn't realize it." His face heats up. "But I'm tired of talking. Fuck me like you mean it."

"I can do that," Stan says, and he positions his cock at Kyle's entrance, staring deeply at him. When Kyle blinks, his trembling hands coming up to cover Stan's, he pushes in.

It's painful, at first; a burning sensation traveling through his body as he frantically tries to adjust to the intrusion. His body is being reshaped like clay for Stan, and he knows suddenly that this is the only person he would really want to do this for. Stan is the only one who truly belongs to him and who he truly belongs to; anyone else would feel fake. Kyle cries out as Stan continues to push in, soothing Kyle with quiet little murmurs and soft touches. For the last few inches, he kisses Kyle through it, stifling his whines. 

When Stan is finally all the way in, Kyle almost feels different. He knows that you're supposed to feel different after your first time, but he didn't know it would be like this; this is the closest Stan will ever be to him. This is the most intimately they can ever be connected; Kyle's legs wrapped tightly around Stan's waist while Stan is buried deep inside of him. He feels like genuinely crying; not out of pain or sadness, but out of some emotion that he can't describe. He might not ever be able to describe it.

Stan stays still for a few minutes while Kyle's breathing devolves into ragged pants. "Okay," Kyle says, when he thinks he's finally done being remolded. "You can move, now. You can take me." When Stan swallows, nodding, Kyle knows that he's having the same experience that Kyle is - they're together in every way. It's hard to wrap his head around. 

Stan pulls out slowly until the head is just barely in, holding Kyle open, before thrusting back inside. Kyle moans and reaches for his own dick for the first time throughout all of this, but Stan stops him by gently taking his hand. "I want to take care of you. Just wait."

The noise that Kyle makes sounds punched out of him when Stan gets into a steady rhythm. His fingers trail down to Kyle's cock; he takes it and gives it the occasional stroke, but not enough attention for Kyle to come immediately. He can feel his impending orgasm, though; somewhere on the horizon, it creeps towards him. 

He tries to say something but Stan pulls out of him before he can, flipping Kyle over onto his stomach and pushing back in in one long, slow thrust. He pokes around for a moment before finally finding Kyle's prostate again; when Stan bumps it after a thrust, Kyle sees stars. Shockwaves are traveling through his body of immense pleasure; it doesn't get any better than this. Or, it doesn't until Stan reaches around and his fingers dance along Kyle's nipples, gently taking them and rolling his thumb along them. Kyle thinks that he screams, nearly buckling under Stan, his hands the only thing preventing Kyle from nearly passing out. 

Stan sets a brutal pace, hitting Kyle's prostate every other or so thrust, and Kyle is sobbing, overstimulated and overwhelmed in the best of ways. Stan continues to paw at his nipples as he drags a long line across Kyle's neck with his tongue. His body is full of stimulation, bursting at the seams, and he can't figure out what to focus on first as Stan bites down, hard, on Kyle's shoulder. "You look like you want to come soon," Stan whispers in his ear, and Kyle gasps.

"Yes, please, take me," Words are pouring out of Kyle's mouth and he suddenly can't control any of them. Nothing will ever compare to this feeling - Stan in him, Stan on him, Stan around him as he proves his love for Kyle again and again. Stan gives a particularly rough couple of thrusts and all of the thoughts fly out of Kyle's head. It's almost animalistic, primal, what they're doing; Kyle on his hands and knees while Stan drapes himself over his... boyfriend? as he fucks roughly into him.

It just takes a few more thrusts and one more lick on the back of Kyle's neck before he's coming, sobbing as his neglected cock spills onto his sheets. Stan follows shortly afterwards, pounding into him until his pace becomes erratic and quick. He comes inside of Kyle with a gasp, falling on top of him as they collapse into the mattress. Kyle can feel the come leaking out of him, dripping down onto his thighs. Stan is eyeing them, and Kyle gives him a light slap to the shoulder. "Don't even think about it."

The feeling of something leaking out of him is very weird, but not something that he particularly dislikes. Stan picks him up on wobbly legs and takes him to the shower; if there wasn't one connected to Kyle's room, he would have been fucked. Well, he was. He only remembers that his parents are home when they're both sitting down in the shower, Stan reverently scrubbing him down and washing his curls. "My mom's gonna be so pissed at me," Kyle mutters.

"Don't worry about it too much," Stan says, drowsily. "My mom is gonna be mad. I haven't texted her and it's been like... two hours since I came to grab my jacket. I told her it would take five minutes."

The hot water pours over both of them as Stan slowly helps Kyle get to his feet. They creep back to Kyle's room and climb onto his bed. "Does this make us, like... boyfriends?" Stan asks later, while they lay in Kyle's bed, toweled off and exhausted.

Kyle nods, scooting closer to press his face into Stan's chest. "Yeah. We're dating now, whether you like it or not," he mumbles. 

"Good." Stan smiles at him and it never fails to make something awaken in Kyle's heart; it bumps throughout his chest, pleased with himself and so incredibly happy that he has Stan Marsh in his bed with him. Kyle pulls the comforter over both of them and stares up at the ceiling, Stan's warm arms wrapped around him.

His lower half feels weak and sore, his thighs are almost completely covered in bite-marks, and he has several hickeys on his back and shoulders. It's going to be an experience to explain this to their parents once it's over and someone inevitably finds them in Kyle's bed, limbs intertwined, but until then, they don't worry about it. 

Kyle falls asleep with dreams about Stan racing through his head; they're connected, now, feelings realized, and they are one hell of a team.

He hopes that Stan dreams of him.


End file.
